I climb to my feet. “What?”
“Did I stutter?” he asks. “What. Did. You. Do. Last. Night?”
I place my hands on the twins’ heads. “Guys, run inside while I talk to your dad.”
I wait until I’ve seen them go inside before I reply.
“If you have something you want to address with me,” I tell him, “don’t do it in front of the twins.”
“Or what? You’ll run and cry to your lawyer? Good luck with that.”
“They shouldn’t have to witness us arguing. I’m asking this on their behalf, not mine.”
“And I’m asking their mother not to look like a fucking whore when I drop the kids off to her in the morning. Also on their behalf.”
I turn away, ending the conversation, but the rage in his eyes has my heart beating hard.
He seems to know something, and I’m not sure what it is, but the more important question is how he’d know it. He’s never been inside the house, so I doubt he’s placed a camera somewhere. Harrison warned me a week ago to be careful what I said via text in case Jeremy was monitoring my phone, but it’s not as if Caleb or I knew last night would unfold the way it did, much less text about it.
I wish I could call Caleb and ask him, but…I’m still not sure what we are, exactly. He said he would try. Does that make him my boyfriend or simply a guy who’s open to the possibility? Does that mean it’s okay for me to text him when he’s at work, or is that a step too far? All relationships are ill-defined at the start, but the fact that he’s moving this fall makes it a little harder than it would have been.
The day passes in silence. The kids are already in bed and I’m shutting off the lights when there’s a tap on the back door. I turn the knob and find myself pressed against Caleb, my nose to the soft fabric of his t-shirt, breathing in his soap. It’s hard to worry about anything when he’s wrapped around me, as if I’m all he’s thought of since he left. It’s hard to worry that he’s moving when he’s here right now—and already hard.
My spine settles as he twines his fingers through mine as he pulls me to the double chaise. We sit beside each other, closer than we should with the twins upstairs. His arm wraps around my shoulders, and I let my head rest on his chest.
“I think my productivity was cut in half today,” he says with a quiet laugh. “I thought about last night at least once a minute.”
I smile. “It was pretty spectacular. Your tongue is magical.”
He grins. “Not magical. Gifted, perhaps.” He runs a hand through my hair. “You do realize it had very little to do with me, right? All I did was catch you when you weren’t in your own head, worrying about shit.”
“So, what I hear you saying is that any man could have made me come like that. Any man in the world.”
“No,” he growls, pulling me into his lap. “You’re right. It was entirely because of me. I’ll prove it right here.”
My lips brush over his. “I’m not sure how we’d explain that to the twins if they come downstairs.”
He laughs. “There’s no story we could make up that Sophie would believe anyway.”
I kiss him again, relishing the warmth of his hands, his end-of-day scruff grazing my skin. I lose myself in it. I allow it to turn sloppy and desperate, with his fingers digging into my ass, his cock rigid between my legs.
“God, I wish I wasn’t traveling again,” he says against my lips. “Give me the cottage phone number so I can at least call you.”
“When do you leave?” I ask, as his palm slides into my shirt.
“Tomorrow, right after the board meeting. When are you kid-free again?”
“Saturday.” I gasp as he pinches a nipple hard through my bra. “Will you be home?”
He laughs and groans at once. “Now I will be.”
28
LUCIE
When I enter the conference room the next morning, most of the board members are here in person and nearly every seat is taken. Caleb’s already at the other end of the table, discussing something with the guy beside him, but when his gaze lands on me, it lingers far longer than it should.
My phone chimes just as the meeting is called to order.
CALEB
Here’s the code you need to open the report: YLBT
It’s the code game I play with Sophie. I burst into a ridiculous, inappropriate smile, though I have no idea what he said.
Y obviously stands for you or your.
L could stand for like, or love, or let or lips. You like…B. You-like-banana-toast. You-like-big-televisions.